


Shake Your Foundations

by zombiegardener



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Pre-Relationship, absolute pointlessness, lance is just done, lance is my spirit animal, so am I, which aren't necessarily mutually exclusive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:30:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiegardener/pseuds/zombiegardener
Summary: Keith is flirting to gather information. Lance is having issues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a horrible day. Nay, a horrible week. On top of that, I started to read a fic this morning that was so full of angst (lovely angst, because normally I'm an angst whore) that it made my heart hurt. Since 9:00 AM is not a socially acceptable time to open moonshine, I wrote this. It was supposed to be fluff. The bar setting is probably entirely because of the acceptable drinking time conversation I had this morning and is not a sign that I'm an alcoholic. I promise. As a disclaimer, this was also written in 45 minutes or so on a break from work and has barely been proofread, which is kind of my normal state of being, apparently.

The bar probably had a name, although Lance had no idea what it was. It didn't matter anyway. It was just a nameless spot in a nameless town in a nameless planet, which pretty much summed up the endless repetition that had become his life.

Whispers of rumors of the resistance movement against the Galra had brought them here, or at least to the planet. The castle was safely hidden out of sight, and Keith and Lance were currently casing out the bar in the "hotel" they were staying in near the space port to try to pick up on anything more concrete than whispers. Or at least Lance was. Keith was currently nursing a drink of some sort at a table near the bar and doing his hilarious best to strike up conversations with strangers, which was usually entertainment gold as far as Lance was concerned.

Tonight was different, though, because this planet's residents were so humanoid it almost felt like home, and not even Keith's sad attempts at flirting were discouraging the women (and men) who were apparently lining up to throw themselves at him. It wasn't unusual, exactly, because Lance was willing to admit that Keith was gorgeous in that bad boy with an attitude sort of way that immediately hit a certain type of person's buttons. It was more that something about the whole situation tonight was just off. He didn't really want to be here. He didn't want to smile and flirt and try to pick up random strangers. He almost desperately wanted people to stay the hell away from Keith, and not only because his smile was looking strained around the edges and the lines around his eyes were too tight. 

If he was honest with himself, what he wanted to do was grab Keith and drag him back up to their room and try again tomorrow, which was stupid because they were here and they had a job to do and even Keith was making an effort. All of it made him feel even more off, like their roles had somehow been reversed.

He gave himself a mental shake because _seriously, Lance, what the hell?_ Forcing a smile onto his face and hoping he didn't look as much like a shadow of his usual self as he felt, he sauntered up to the bar, ordered a drink of something that appeared to be smoking, and turned to the two women next to him. "Hello, ladies!" They smiled back, which he took for encouragement, forced his smile up a notch, and absolutely did not glance at Keith's reflection in the mirror above the bar.

An hour later, he was on his fifth conversation with a beautiful person and his third drink of something that he wasn't entirely sure he should be drinking while he was working, but he was having a hard time caring anymore. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he faked a stretch to turn his head towards Keith, who he had in no way been watching out of his peripheral vision all night. Keith let his gaze pass over Lance without any sign of recognition and gave him the signal that he had something before pushing back from the table. The woman he'd been talking to wore an expression of disappointment as Keith made some sort of excuse and backed away, unnatural smile still on his face. Lance felt a vicious surge of something like satisfaction that was petty and not really fair because his issues weren't the poor woman's fault. 

He took a deep breath and was considering ordering another drink because fuck it, their work was mostly done for tonight and suddenly he felt almost claustrophobic at the thought of retreating to the room he was sharing with Keith and had wanted to escape to all night because Keith was there and what the hell was in these drinks, anyway?

The woman Keith had been talking to glided up and sank down onto the bar stool next to him. Lance glanced at her and decided that she was pretty with that almost-but-not-quite human sort of vibe the people on this planet put out. It was both reassuring and vaguely unsettling at the same time for some reason Lance couldn't quite put his finger on. It was the eyes, he decided as she smiled at him. The pupils were all wrong, slits instead of circles. Or maybe it was the flattened cheekbones. There was just something that screamed "alien" even more than the life forms that looked like what his brain would call alien, maybe because of all the similarities.

"Your friend seems to have left me," she told him, raising a hand towards the bartender to order another drink.

"Who?"

The girl turned and pinned him with a look that made his face heat up. Right. Only two humans in the bar. Of course they'd know each other. Why were they pretending to not know each other? Who's stupid idea had that been. He should probably say something.

"Um, yeah. Keith does that."

"Mmm." She tilted her head to the side and looked him up and down before an almost frighteningly predatory smile appeared on her face. "I think you'll do, though. Are all of your people so pretty?"

Lance reached for the new drink that had appeared before him, because holy crow. "Well, um..." He took a drink to give himself time to think, ignoring the amusement in her eyes while silently berating himself. _Real smooth, Lance. Thank god Pidge isn't here._

Her smile lightened with her amusement, her eyes twinkling in the low lights as she watched him over the rim of her glass.

He leaned back in his chair, shooting for nonchalance as he turned to fully face the woman next to him, because this was obviously a sure thing. And that's what he wanted, wasn't it? Besides, she was the last person Keith spoke to, so maybe he could get some more information from her. No need to let Keith have all the glory.

"Let's start over." He shot for the cheeky grin that usually got him out of trouble with anyone female when he was a kid (excluding his mother, because nothing ever got by her) and hoped for the best. "Hi, I'm Lance. And you are?"

"Amara." She set her drink down on the bar and gazed up at him through her lashes. Lance briefly wondered who was manipulating who here, but at least he was feeling sufficiently focused for the first time all night.

They talked about nothing through the rest of their drinks. He didn't learn anything that sounded useful, and frustration was starting to kick in because that obviously meant that Keith was better at this than him and fuck that. No matter how pretty Keith was there was no way he was better at working a crowd and picking up information. It was just that he felt so off his game tonight, which he was pretty sure was all Keith's fault. He was considering ordering another drink because it was awesome- whatever it was- when the conversation suddenly veered back to the topic that was the source of his current mental state.

"So, does Keith always abandon women he's trying to pick up in a bar when they're a sure thing?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No idea." Lance took his last drink and waved a hand at her incredulous expression. 

"No idea? You're obviously friends. How can you possibly have no idea?"

"I don't honestly think I've ever seen Keith hit on anyone, in a bar or anywhere else. He doesn't have to. He just goes all stoic and intense and and broody and women immediately get all wet and throw themselves at him. I think it supposedly hints at some hidden vulnerability or something. Me, I just think it's crap."

"Right." She put down her empty glass, eyeing him speculatively. "Like you're much better."

"What? At least I make an effort."

"A wasted one."

Lance's eyes narrowed and his hand went to his heart with a dramatic gesture of wounded pride. "I would never abandon someone as beautiful as you! Please tell me the effort wasn't a waste. I don't think my poor heart could take it." 

She stole his waving hand gesture as she put a card down on the bar to cover her drinks. "Let me give you some advice, gorgeous. Be honest with yourself. You didn't take your eyes off him all night, and all it took was the mention of his name to get you all worked up again. Who do you think you're kidding?" She glanced in the mirror and fluffed here hair, ignoring his suddenly dangerous expression. "I'm sure you'll take me to bed, but it's him you want, isn't it?" She stood up and kissed his cheek as he sputtered incoherently. "Anyway, I'm in room 512 if you're still up for a good time. Good night, Lance."

As she walked away, Lance glanced at his startled reflection in the mirror, wondering if he really was that transparent.

**Author's Note:**

> This should probably continue because it cuts off a little abruptly, but I actually do need to get back to reading about crop/weed competition and the effects on photosynthesis (yay?). If anyone's interested in what happens back in the room, let me know and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> The title is from the AC/DC song, btw, because my ipod was playing on shuffle and it seemed to fit. I'm pretty sure my ipod is clairvoyant.


End file.
